How To Resist A Heartbreaker

by Louisa George

  Her lips formed a small pout. ‘You did good today. Very good.’

  He leaned in. ‘That’s because I am good.’

  ‘Now, that’s better. Rising up the scale, Mr Maitland—maybe an eight.’ Raw need flared behind her gaze. Her lips parted a little as she ran the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip.

  This was dodgy territory.

  Mixing business with pleasure was a definite no. Too much gossip, too much to live up to. Hell, he’d had enough of that.

  And yet…there was something simmering between them. A tension building, an awareness they both acknowledged, if not with words then with those fleeting looks. Like a gathering storm, intense, alive with static.

  Then the connection fractured as she frowned. ‘But I know all about men like you. Big-shot surgeon. Work too hard. No time for friends or relationships.’ She glanced at his hand. ‘No wedding band. No one to go home to—or you’d be there already. You just want something quick and hot and uncomplicated.’

  And now she was stamping on a raw nerve. No woman had ever challenged him so blatantly. Pure lust fired inside him. He whispered in her ear. ‘You reckon you fit the picture?’

  ‘Not today. So if you don’t mind, I need a little privacy.’ She held her glass out to Bill. ‘Another one, please.’

  Max didn’t want to ask why she was so intent on getting tanked. The woman was free to do what she liked. She certainly looked as if she could handle herself. In truth, the less he knew about her the better—that way things could stay strictly professional.

  But his interest was way off the scale.

  He wrapped his hand over her wrist, gently pulling the glass onto the bar. His fingers were drawn to her hand. He turned it over and rubbed her palm with his thumb. Checked for wedding rings. None. Good. The static jumped and buzzed around them at his touch. ‘Don’t you think you should be slowing down?’ And why did he care?

  Her fingers shook free and the frown deepened. ‘Seriously? I’ve had four drinks. I can still walk, talk and count. No big deal. Don’t bust a gut over me. This is a once-a-year indulgence I allow myself. I’m having a ball, so don’t go spoiling my party.’

  He wanted to ask why. Why once a year—what had happened? Why here? Why the hell had things aligned for him to bump into her today, when he needed something, as she’d so rightly said, hot and quick. With her it felt complicated already, not least because they were going to be colleagues. And there was that thing…that invisible tug between them. ‘Hey, I’m a transplant surgeon. Livers fail. I worry.’

  ‘Oh, sweetie. Don’t.’ Her mouth twitched. ‘Once a year. The rest of the time I’m a saint.’

  ‘Well, lucky I found you tonight, then. Your liver will be eternally grateful.’

  *

  ‘Sure it will. But my brain will never forgive you.’ Gabby shook her head. The man was beyond irritating. Okay, she conceded, and not a little gorgeous with his dark messy hair, tight black jeans and startling blue eyes that drew her gaze every time she looked in his direction. They were a deep-set, mesmerising, intense blue framed by eyelashes bordering on illegally long.

  Not to mention the way his white shirt clung to thick biceps and broad shoulders dragging her eyes to his body.

  She tried to ignore the fire smouldering in her belly as he touched her hand.

  But really? The man was rude and way too self-assured. Six feet plus of trouble.

  His reputation went before him—first time she’d had an orientation that had come with a health warning—Max Maitland, legendary surgeon, serial heartbreaker.

  If she hadn’t seen the softening in him at the mention of Jamie she’d have believed the hype—chalked him up as a self-centred charmer.

  She had to admire him, though. He could spar as well as she could. But his ego was spilling out of that crisp cotton shirt. From previous ugly experience she’d erased over-confident and über-charming from the list of qualities she liked in a man. Nonna had been right about one thing, men just couldn’t be trusted.

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Next time I need some advice from the fun police I’ll know who to call.’

  ‘And I’ll make sure I’m right there in my superhero outfit.’

  ‘I so did not need an image of you with your undies over your trousers.’ She shrugged, stifling a laugh, trying hard not to look at the way those jeans hugged his long legs. His perfect backside. Fascinating.

  ‘It’s the twenty-first century. We don’t do outfits like that anymore. I’ll let you into a secret…’ He finished his beer. ‘We transform.’

  She mustered indifference, holding her laugh back. ‘I’m only interested if you transform me another mojito.’

  ‘A virgin mojito for sure.’ He motioned to Bill to bring an alcohol-free drink despite her protests. ‘Er… I still don’t know your name.’

  ‘You are very annoying.’ And damned gorgeous, and way off-limits. And all the things she’d been warned about. And funny and sexy, too, and there was that strange pull to him that she was trying to ignore. But they were going to be working together so he’d find out her name soon enough. ‘Charge Nurse Radley. Gabby, to my friends.’

  ‘Well, Gabby, pleased to meet you.’ He stuck out a hand. ‘Do you have any interesting secrets you’d like to share?’

  Not even if hell froze over. She’d moved to Auckland to restart her life, not relive it. Freedom. At last. Space of her own. No one to tell her what to do.

  She regarded his hand with as much disdain as she could muster. God, she’d met her match here. Most men had run a mile by now.

  In another life this could be fun. He could be fun.

  Dodging his question, she bristled. ‘Like I said, you don’t get to call me Gabby. I’m Charge Nurse Radley.’

  ‘Gabby. So that is Gabrielle? Gabriella?’ His grin widened as she stuck her tongue out. It was as if he knew exactly which buttons to press, and definitely how to tease. ‘Ah, Gabriella, your eyes give so much away. Nice name, and I’ll stick with Gabby, thanks.’

  ‘Are you this forward with everyone or is it just me?’

  ‘Considering it’s your first day in a new job, I’d have thought you’d want to make a good impression.’ He laughed, his chin jutting up. ‘Here’s a hint—you could make it easier for people to get to know you.’

  ‘I do, usually. Just not people like you.’ And not today, when she just wanted to be left alone. ‘Don’t worry, I can do professional and competent. Tomorrow.’

  ‘I can’t wait. Any more frostiness and we’ll need to increase the central heating. I’ll make sure I pack a scarf.’ He checked her half-empty glass and then his watch. His smile turned from friendly to insanely wicked. ‘Gabby, you’ve got the wrong impression of me. Or you’re delusional. Or drunk. Whichever, clearly you’re a danger to yourself. So, if you’re done, I’m taking you home.’

  ‘Whoa, buster. You are not.’ She’d had enough of people telling her what to do. ‘I’m not ready to go home…’ She paused.

  Home? Where the heck was that? Certainly not the new shared flat she’d dumped all her boxes into yesterday.

  Or Wellington, with its bittersweet memories and dark, dark corners.

  But she’d determined not to think about any of that. Apart from tonight. The whole day had been exhausting—a new job, new people. A sweet baby fighting for his life. Piling a tumult of more emotions to the anniversary she kept, like a vigil, every year.

  And now Mr I’m-sexy-and-I-know-it was piggy-backing on it. Adding a hint of danger to the heady cocktail of anger and hurt.

  ‘Thank you, but I’m fine on my own.’ She dragged on her jacket, lost her balance and slid off her chair, slamming into his hard wall of stomach. ‘Oops.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ His voice sent a breeze against her neck followed by ripples of something hot pattering through her stomach. ‘Because if there’s anything I can help you with…’

  Well, she had been sure. Sure she wasn’t tipsy, sure she was going to walk away.<
br />
  But now? Not so much. Maybe the mojitos had made her a bit woozy after all. She wasn’t used to drinking, to meeting men in bars. To the dizzy lights of a strange new city, or the safe embrace of a man like Max Maitland.

  Strong arms circled her waist as he hauled her upright and led her outside into the dark street. Heat fizzed through her body. His smell, woody and heady, washed over her. She put her hands out to his chest to create space, but something held her there—her body flat refused to move. A wave of awareness jolted through her.

  As her gaze travelled up his chest, over his too-damned-sexy mouth and up to his bright blue eyes, she realised it was no good fighting it. What he hadn’t offered in words she could see from the spark, feel from his increased respiratory rate. God, she was still thinking like a goddamned nurse. How long had it been?

  Too long.

  She’d managed to keep that bridge between her and intimacy for so long, fortified by Nonna’s rules and ugly experience.

  But what he was offering her? What she thought he was offering her, hot and quick, would take her off that bridge with a wide leap. She’d spent ten years clinging on by her fingertips, frightened of what might happen. Of how much she’d have to give and lose all over again.

  But this was different. He was different. Max wasn’t asking for anything but a good time—he wasn’t the type to make promises or offer her any more. She’d been warned about that already. Which was fine with her.

  So, she could go back to the people she didn’t know in her cold unfamiliar house and spend the night alone with her memories. Like she’d done for a decade. Or she could take him up on his offer. One night of heat and fun and danger.

  She could scramble back onto the bridge tomorrow.

  The mojitos made her bolder. Instead of pushing away from him, as she knew she should, she held on to his arm and looked straight into his eyes. Made sure he got the message. What she wanted. Where they were headed.

  Never had she felt so brazen, so alive. ‘Actually, I can think of a few things I need help with.’

  ‘Then I’m your guy.’ For a second he seemed to still, confused no doubt by her see-sawing signals. Then heat ignited in his pupils. He tipped his head, his mouth a fraction away from hers.

  An ache spread from her abdomen to her groin, rushing through her blood to every nerve ending. When his hands reached for her waist and pulled her closer she stepped into his arms, pushing away any negative thoughts.

  When his thumb rubbed against her hip bone her heart rate spiked. Then his mouth was covering hers with a force she’d never experienced before.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, deepened the kiss, opening her mouth to his tongue. His hardness pressed between them and she rocked against it. The desire he’d unleashed in her only seemed to grow more intense as she curled into his heat.

  She didn’t know where this temptress act was coming from. Something about Max Maitland made her feel so sexy—and knowing it was for one night only, she played along. God, if her nonna could see her… No. No. No. She hauled Max closer and lost herself in his heat, erased any thoughts of home from her brain.

  Shivers tingled down her spine as he cupped her face and crushed his mouth to hers.

  Eventually he pulled away, his breathing ragged. ‘Okay, Gabby.’ Still keen to play games with her. Good. She wanted to play. ‘You want to rate me now?’

  She pretended to think for a moment, pressed her lips together—relishing the unfamiliar stinging sensation from his kiss. ‘Nine.’

  ‘Nine?’

  She bit her bottom lip and leaned closer to his ear. Breathed in the scent that had started to drive her wild. ‘Okay, nine point five.’

  ‘Really? And I lost half a point for what, exactly?’

  ‘It didn’t last anywhere near long enough.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘I CAN REMEDY THAT.’ Max’s forehead rested against hers, his breathing finally steadying. He’d met his match here. Hallelujah. Things could get very interesting between now and tomorrow morning. ‘I’m not back on duty for a few hours. You?’

  Gabby frowned. ‘Early shift. And as it’s my first day in charge, I have to make an impression—so watch out, Mr Maitland. I can be ruthless.’

  ‘Woo—scary nurse lady.’ But, yes, they would be colleagues from tomorrow. Damn. This was getting too complicated. He hesitated, his judgement getting the better of him. And his conscience too.

  He didn’t know her—but what he’d seen so far was that no matter how much of a front she put up, she had shadows, and a past—or else why would she be in the pub on her own, hell-bent on getting wasted?

  And he didn’t want to veer into that kind of territory.

  But she was intriguing. Strong and strident one minute, sexy siren the next, and all the time with an undercurrent of vulnerability that tugged at his protective instinct.

  And right now he wanted to bury himself inside her. Not just anyone. Not someone. Her.

  ‘Hey.’ She kissed him on the cheek. ‘Earth to Max.’

  ‘You want to talk about why you were in the pub?’

  ‘No. I don’t want to talk at all. Don’t ask me anything, and I won’t ask you.’ She placed her finger to his lips. ‘You don’t want more. And neither do I. So forget the sensitive-guy thing.’

  ‘But…?’

  ‘But nothing. Tonight we are…friends. Tomorrow we are co-workers. I can cope with that if you can. Seriously. Cross my heart.’

  Her fingers tiptoed down his shirt buttons and she drew a cross over his heart. When she peered up at him through thick black eyelashes he caught the flash of desire in her eyes. ‘Now you are severely dropping in my ratings. If you want to get back up to at least a seven, you’ve got a bit of work to do.’

  ‘Seven? How did that happen?’

  She wiggled her hips against his thigh. ‘You, Mr Maitland, are all talk and no action.’

  ‘You want action? Right.’ Max walked her across the deserted street and into his apartment block. Crazy stuff. He never offered his place. One of his rules, and he had a few—no staying the night. No promises of anything. Anything. No sharing his private cave. That was way too personal—and he didn’t do intimacy on any level, not if he could help it. But his apartment was close by. And what they needed right now was hot and quick. He punched ‘P’ and the lift jolted.

  ‘You live in the penthouse? Wow.’

  ‘Sure. You have a problem with heights?’

  He couldn’t resist the smile. It had taken a lot of damned hard work to earn enough to get this place—but it had been worth every hour and every cent just to see the look on his uncle’s face. ‘We could go back to the ground floor. I own an apartment there too—but it’s rented out at the moment—could be a bit crowded.’

  ‘Now you’re just showing off.’

  ‘Oh, believe me, I haven’t even started.’ He nibbled her ear and watched her squirm with delight further into his arms. Her scent coated everything—her hair, her skin—his skin. And it fired a zillion nerve endings in his groin.

  He swiped his card and opened the apartment door, activating the lights.

  He couldn’t help the smile when Gabby gasped. Whether it was at the one-eighty-degree view of Auckland’s glittering night skyline or his kisses on the back of her neck he didn’t know. Either way, with her sharp intake of breath he was all turned on as hell. He took her hand and led her into his space.

  ‘Wow! Look! The lights. You didn’t even touch a switch.’

  He laughed. ‘There was me thinking my kisses made you gasp.’

  ‘You really do have a high opinion of yourself, don’t you?’ But she traced a finger down his cheek and over his lips. ‘Do it again.’

  He waved a hand and the room plunged into darkness again. ‘Like that?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Palms worked their way down to his chest.

  Then the lights came on again.

  Then off.

  Then on.

  She grinned as he
caught her, her arm in mid-air. ‘Oops. In the real world we have flicky switch things. This is so cool.’

  As the room plunged into darkness again he found her mouth, the pressure of her fingers on his back stoking the fire in his belly. He guided her to the couch, raking his hands through those thick curls he’d been aching to touch all evening.

  With every stroke of his tongue she moaned with pleasure, sending him dangerously closer to the edge. He undid the buttons on her blouse, slid his hand under her bra, felt the delicious contraction of her nipples against his palm.

  He struggled with an intense need to take her. Here. Now. But he sensed he needed to take it more slowly with her. Wanted to take it more slowly. They only had a few hours before morning and he felt as if time was running out. If he hurried, the magic would be lost too soon.

  When he pulled away slightly he watched her face transform from beguiling to bewitched as she gazed across the room to the city view.

  ‘This place is freakin’ huge! Incredible! Look at all those lights, the harbour. I can see a cruise ship down there in dock. It’s magical.’ Then she glanced around the moonlit room, her delight evident, like a kid in a sweet shop. ‘The glass…so much glass…must cost a fortune in window cleaning.’ She laughed, ran her hand along the top of the couch. ‘And all these white fixtures, the blonde wood…but no knick-knacks? Pictures? Photos?’

  ‘No.’ He wouldn’t explain.

  ‘What about Jamie? Your family? You must have photos of them.’

  ‘I don’t like clutter.’ He’d managed to live like that for a long time. No mess—physical or emotional. ‘I keep things simple.’

  ‘I see. Noted.’ She paused and seemed to take that in. Then she nodded, understanding his hint not to probe further. ‘It’s stark, but breathtaking. I’ve never seen such a space. It’s like something out of a magazine.’

  ‘Metro House Monthly—February edition.’ At her frown he explained. ‘The interior designer was pretty happy with it so she booked an editorial. There’s a spa, too, out there in the garden.’